


DRINK ME

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, Gen, R.O.U.S.s, Victorian Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know that big laboratory in the basement of the Diogenes Club, the one with the sign on the door that says DO NOT ENTER? You probably shouldn't enter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DRINK ME

"If I ever run into Mycroft again," panted Watson, "I will jolly well murder the fellow."

"Stop expending breath on revenge and save it for escape," Holmes puffed behind him. 

The beast right behind them was the size of a horse – no, no, it was an ordinary-sized rat, and it was they who – 

Watson still couldn't wrap his mind around their situation – nor the fact that the obstacle course over which he and Holmes leaped, ducked and ran was an ordinary laboratory table littered with the usual beakers, retorts and other tools of the trade. Including, unfortunately, a beaker full of a bright lavender liquid labeled 'For Reducing – M. Holmes' and a flimsy rat cage containing an enraged and hungry rodent, which now appeared to be of unusual size. 

" Bad enough you stabbed your own finger for a sample to test your haemoglobin agent," Watson gasped, looking around for anything that could serve as a weapon, "so naturally you had to test your brother's concoction!" He picked up a pipette as if it were a glass lance and hurled it at the squealing menace behind them. "And bad enough you try it on yourself, but I wind up inadvertently testing it when you dropped the beaker and everything went flying – including into my mouth."

"Remarkably effective. Mycroft has lately become obsessed with banting – aha!" Holmes leaped up onto a Bunsen burner and kicked the stopcock open, began climbing to the hissing top as if he shinnied up a chrome-plated tree. "I wished to see if I could discern its components. Join me up here, my dear fellow."

Watson feinted left and dashed past the mountain of fur and teeth – dear God, rodent incisors were fearful things when they seemed the size of _Smilodon_ sabres – to join Holmes up the metal tube. The rat scrabbled at the homunculi clinging to the burner, dark eyes gleaming. 

Holmes rummaged through his pockets while Watson kicked at the rat (and only lost his shoe in the process). "It's clear Mycroft's concoction does indeed reduce one's weight rather drastically – but not in the way he'd hoped. Up here with me."

Watson scrabbled up just ahead of the teeth that had shredded his brown Oxford, and reached the top just as Holmes struck a match; he ducked his head only just in time to avoid the flare of fire as the top lit like Vesuvius. 

"Now lend your weight to mine to overbalance."

The old campaigner immediately saw what Holmes was up to, and set to heaving at the top of the burner in time with Holmes. Their combined weights tipped the top-heavy flaming device toward their adversary and they hit the tabletop rolling. 

The squealing creature, sparks still flaring off its singed fur, tore away in full retreat.

"Hurrah!" Watson shouted and wished he had a hat to wave. 

Holmes had recovered his aplomb and straightened to his full five inches of height (to Watson's 4¾"). "Now we wait for Mycroft to discern where we have gone, come to find us, and we persuade him to concoct an anti-agent for his banting formula."

Watson groaned and sat on a test tube. "And if he can't? Holmes, we'll be useless at this height for anything but a carnival sideshow!"

"Nonsense, old fellow." Holmes patted his friend's shoulder. "We may continue our work as before. Should Mycroft be unable to return us to our previous dimensions – which I doubt – I need only have him return us to Baker Street."

"Where we will be trodden underfoot," Watson said gloomily. 

"Where I shall finally fix my attentions on that particularly tidy mouse-hole in the parlour wall, and call upon a colleague to assist us. He too does not care for rats very much."

Watson shook his head and slumped to the tabletop, back against the solid glass cylinder. "Wake me when the Queen of Hearts walks in."

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comm [Watson's Woes](watsons-woes.livejournal.com)' July 2012 writing prompts. The prompt called for you to type some Holmes-related phrase into DeviantArt, Google Images, or some other image generator. The first picture that appears must be your inspiration and basis for the fic. The phrase I input in Deviantart.com was 'Giant Rat of Sumatra' – and [this piece of art by mydearwatson ](http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=Giant+Rat+of+Sumatra#/d1m7imh)was the first thing I saw. I was inspired by drawing #8 in the meme.)


End file.
